


What a Day For a Daydream

by Stylinsonvodka



Series: A Song For The Timid of Heart [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Basically Everything You Could Ever Want, Hybrid Louis, Innocent Louis, M/M, Prompt Fill, Smut, Student Harry, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylinsonvodka/pseuds/Stylinsonvodka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's absolutely naked, and flushed all the way down to his chest, and when he turns, to readjust the locks, Harry gets the perfect view of his perfect arse. (He thinks, for a moment, that he must he dead. Or his Truman show is a porno.) When he turns back to Harry, and sees him staring, he only shrugs, smiling up at him innocently. "I couldn't wait," he explains. Harry nearly chokes on his tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Day For a Daydream

**Author's Note:**

> basically this is another brillant prompt fill that i wrote at three this morning and havent checked over and would have gotten posted sooner if the power hadnt gone out at my house!!! so i hope you love it and if you dont love it lie to me about it and tell me you do!!
> 
> also feel free to send me prompts of your own [tumblr](http://www.stylinsonvodka.tumblr.com), and also maybe follow me on it pretty please

Harry's not sure when it became a thing. 

Honestly. 

He knows it wasn't the first day, when his Social Justice teacher, Mr. Payne, brought in his pet hybrid to assist in their discussions about hybrid rights. (Or something. Harry sleeps through Social Justice most of the time.) And he knows it wasn't the next class, because he specifically remembers the hybrid having spent the entire class on Mr. Payne's desk, making faces at the class and erasing everything the teacher tried to write on the board. (It was also the first class he was awake for the entirety of.) He doesn't think it was the third, or the fourth, or the fifth, or the sixth — and after that, he had started to lose count of how many classes the hybrid had started to attend. 

But, he thinks, between the eighth and the tenth, (the seventh and the ninth? the fourteenth and the seventieth?), the hybrid became bored of rifling through unattended backpacks, and slipped beneath Harry's desk and between his legs. Harry remembers starting to protest, but all the hybrid did was scoff, and murmur, "I'm Louis," against his thigh before pulling his jeans down and wrapping his lips around his cock.

And just like that, it was a thing. 

Louis would sneak around, pick apart backpacks, erase whatever Mr. Payne had written on the board and replace it with poorly spelt sentences of his own. He'd sit on some students desks, and in the laps of some of the girls, who would coo and scratch his ears and giggle. But after about fifteen minutes — thirty, sometimes — he'd get bored, and crawl back under Harry's desk to free his cock and suck him off like he ought to get a fucking award for it. (Harry thinks he must have learned to do it from porn.) 

It's so much of a thing Harry's almost surprised when Louis crawls under his his desk and doesn't immediately pull his jeans down. (He wonders if that makes him an asshole.) (It probably does.)

He simply sits between his legs for a while, absolutely silent; so much so Harry knocks his pen off the table so he has an excuse to kneel down next to Louis and voice his concern. "Babe?" He whispers. "Are you alright?" 

Louis blinks up at him slowly. "I'm fine." 

"Are you sure?" 

"M'just thinking." 

"About what?" Harry asks, and Louis blinks again, looking painfully, unbelievably innocent as he murmurs, 

"I think I want you to fuck me." 

And Harry thinks he's about to die.

"Wah — what? You what?" 

"Want you," Louis explains. Harry must still look clueless because he continues, "To bend me over the counter in the bathroom and fuck me."

Harry raises his eyebrows, the muscles in his jaw seizing up as he tries to keep it from unhinging. "Are you serious?" He asks. 

Louis nods quickly, eyes shining with an expression Harry's only ever witnessed in porn. It makes his dick twitch. "Would you?" 

"Would I?" Harry repeats. 

"Fuck me. I'll ask Daddy if I can go to the washroom just before the bell, and you can come meet me in there after you're dismissed." 

"Daddy," Harry repeats. 

Louis brightens, looking so pretty and so innocent Harry's fingers twitch with the strain of not pushing the kitten onto his back and taking him then and there. "So you'll do it?" 

And he's giggling, like he knows he's won, and he's so excited at the idea of being fucked by Harry that Harry is certain he's about to die. "Yeah. I'll — yes. Yeah." 

. 

The end of the block comes so much slower than Harry would have liked. 

It had already been half over when Harry rose from the floor, though time passed as slowly as though those first forty five minutes hadn't happened at all. He had never realized how slowly Social Justice passed — especially when he actually had to pay attention to distract himself from getting hard — or how little he actually cared about the subject when he didn't have a certain small someone mouthing at his dick from below his desk.

He considers several times, while Mr. Payne prattles on about whether or not Religion is a valid excuse to be an asshole, either excusing himself, or exploding. He almost thinks he might actually combust, while he finally watches Louis walk from the room, shirt riding up his back and hips swaying and Harry knows (he fucking _knows_ ) he's doing it on purpose. 

When the bell finally sounds, ending the class and dismissing the students, Harry's so on edge he knocks his chair down and leaves his textbooks in a pile on his desk. But he doesn't care, and he doesn't hear the teacher call after him, because his mind is a busy stream of _Louis, Louis, Louis_ , and finds himself sprinting as he rushes from the classroom and to the bathroom down the hall. 

At first, it doesn't open, and Harry's heart nearly stops when he thinks the janitors must have locked it and he's not gonna be able to fuck the hybrid. (Apparently he really is an asshole.) (One with a sex addiction.) (And an apparent kitten kink.) Though before his heart can get comfortable in his stomach, he hears the locks turn, and a tiny hand is wrapped around his bicep and pulling him into the bathroom. Harry stumbles, before managing to catch himself against the bathroom counter, and glancing at the figure who pulled him inside with an open mouth and dark eyes. 

He's absolutely naked, and flushed all the way down to his chest, and when he turns, to readjust the locks, Harry gets the perfect view of his perfect arse. (He thinks, for a moment, that he must he dead. Or his Truman show is a porno.) When he turns back to Harry, and sees him staring, he shrugs, smiling up at him innocently. "I couldn't wait," he explains, and Harry nearly chokes on his tongue. "Aren't you gonna take your clothes off?"

Louis sounds honestly confused, and were Harry not suddenly hurriedly ripping his clothes off, he probably would have laughed. He drops them haphazardly onto the tile — stark contrast to the neat little pile of Louis' clothes sitting on the counter — before turning to look at Louis, who's standing closer to Harry than Harry was expecting and is blinking up at him earnestly. 

"What now?" He asks, and when Harry only raises his eyebrows, he blushes again. "I'm sorry. I've never done this before." 

Harry's dick twitches. "You haven't?" 

Louis shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, starting to twist his fingers together, and Harry can't keep himself from snorting.

"No, you — don't be. But — I. Uh." 

Louis giggles softly, and it's almost incredible how much the small noise lightens the tension. 

Harry grins. "Are you sure you wanna do this?" 

Louis nods, looking up at Harry with a bit more of the confidence he had before, sitting beneath Harry's desk. "Very very very _so_ sure," he insists. 

"That's pretty sure," Harry agrees, cracking another crooked grin before taking a breath to steady to himself. "How do you wanna do this?" 

"I dunno." 

"Right," Harry nods. "Can you just sit on the counter for me, babe?" 

Louis nods, and hops up onto the counter next to his clothes, spreading his legs expectantly. 

Harry quirks a brow. "Thought you've never done this before?" 

Louis shakes his head. "I haven't. But I wanted you for a really long time so I watched videos so I'd know what to do." 

Ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind that crows, _I fucking new he watched porn!_ , Harry has to take another deep breath to steady himself. "You did?" 

Louis nods. "Is that bad?" 

"No, love, that's really — that's great," he nods. Louis mimics his nod again, and smiles proudly, though he doesn't say any more and Harry realizes, with a small groan, that it's fucking go time. 

He steps between Louis' legs, and leans into him slowly, giving him time to change his mind and pull away. But Louis, the unpredictable little thing that he is, only leans further into Harry, before he leans up to slot their lips together. The kiss is sloppy and languid and obviously inexperienced, but it's sweet, and it's so hot, and by the time they finally break apart, Harry's cock _aches_ and Louis can't suppress the tiny noises that keep escaping his lips. 

"Please, Harry," he breathes. His ears twitch, and he reaches behind him, pulling a bottle of lube from the pocket of his jeans and pressing it into Harry's palm. "Need you." 

Harry nods, and, with shaky hands, starts to uncaps the bottle; though before he can start to coat his fingers Louis reaches out to grab his wrist. "I already did that," he says, and Harry blinks. 

"O — okay," he nods again, moving to pour the lube into his palm before wrapping his slick hand around his cock. "Are you sure you don't need me to stretch you any?" 

Louis nods certainly. "I already did while you were in class." 

And then all Harry can think about is Louis, spread out across the counter, head back against the mirror and hand between his thighs. 

And he almost dies. 

"Fuck, Louis, okay," he finally mumbles, holding tightly to the base of his dick. "Spread your legs a little more for me, baby." Louis complies quickly, and Harry sighs shakily, as he wraps one hand around Louis' thigh and lines himself up with his hole with the other. "Still sure you're ready for this?" He starts to ask, though he supposes he receives his answer when Louis starts to cant his hips. 

He takes another deep breath. "Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?" Harry warns, before it all becomes too much to him, and he fucks himself into Louis with one, fell thrust. 

Louis mewls. (And it's the hottest thing Harry's ever heard in his entire life.) He drops his head back against the mirror, and shifts slowly, before breathing, "Move, please," and who is Harry to deny him anything? 

He pulls out slowly, before, even more hesitantly, pushing back in, and that's how he moves for a long few moments before Louis whimpers, impatiently, "Harder," and Harry snaps his hips. Louis mewls again, and rakes his nails down Harry's back, and Harry can't keep himself from groaning loudly as he rolls his shoulders and thrusts into Louis even more quickly. 

After another few minutes, Louis wraps his legs around Harry's waist, to the chorus of his own whimpers and labored breathing as he's fucked into the mirror behind him. His grip around Harry is tight, made even more so as he claws down his back again, and that's all it takes for Harry's stomach to start to tighten. 

He shifts quickly, and angles his thrusts, and it doesn't take Harry very long at all to find that small bundle of nerves in Louis that has him crying Harry's name and arching his back. 

Harry thrusts into him, against that one spot, more and more roughly, before Louis' breathing out a scream of Harry's name and coming between them, untouched. He tightens around Harry obscenely, and that's all Harry needs, before he's snapping his hips against Louis' one more time and coming without warning. 

He breaths out another moan, and starts to relax in Louis' arms, before a voice, from one of the stalls behind him, chimes, 

"Are you two quite finished?" 

And Harry almost dies.

**Author's Note:**

> remember to [follow me on tumblr](http://www.stylinsonvodka.tumblr.com) prettiest please!!


End file.
